


Should You Really Be Thinking About This?

by nbclear



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: 2k words of porn and also pining, Creampie, Fantasy, M/M, NSFW, PWP, S1, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, also SORRY SORRY IF THISIS BAD, but like... before the worms, i wrote it in like an hour at 4am and i’m an artist not a writer, sometime in the middle probably, uhhh what else..
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25163047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbclear/pseuds/nbclear
Summary: has martin’s crush gotten wildly out of hand? oh absolutely.self indulgent 2k words of porn and pining :o)  jm is such a popular ship but all i see is obscure tma ship porn so i figured i’d contribute
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Jonmartin - Relationship, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 8
Kudos: 155





	Should You Really Be Thinking About This?

Martin wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten here. At this point, he means— at home, legs spread, fantasizing about his boss.

That wasn’t entirely true, actually. He’d been enamored with Jon’s sharp features contrasting with the softness of his hair, his stoic academia persona and the inkling Martin has that deep down, he was really quite a soft guy, from day one. So he knows where it all started. Sure, he could be a bit of an asshole, but a little banter never hurt anyone, right?

So it seemed only a natural progression that a small crush and attraction would develop over time, and the more time you give it, the bigger it’s going to get— and at this point, Martin felt close to bursting. Still, to think of your boss the way he did brought quite a bit of embarrassment to the surface, but he couldn’t deny the excitement that came along with it.

And so here he was on a Sunday evening, lying in his bed, underwear and sweatpants crumpled in a heap next to his bed while his fingers rubbed slowly at his clit, a ridiculous fantasy running through his mind. His fingers were hesitant at first, as he imagined Jon’s slender fingers reaching out to touch him. At the first contact, Martin would gasp— _“Is this alright?”_ , Jon would ask, his voice an octave lower than usual.  
“Y-yeah,” Martin would stammer out, cheeks burning. “keep going.”

And so Jon would. Martin squeezed his clit between two fingers, pulling the skin back and exposing himself completely before rubbing back downwards to dip his fingers— _no, Jon’s fingers_ — ever so slightly into himself. He thought about the way Jon might look at him, lips slightly parted and eyes hooded as they darted between the wet shine of his pussy and Martin’s face, drinking in the blissful expression he’d wear. Martin whimpered at that, squeezing his clit again, spreading his legs further. 

Jon would take full advantage of the extra space, pushing his thin frame forward, closer to Martin, his own heat searing against Jon’s cool skin. Jon would lean a bit closer, his unoccupied hand running itself up Martin’s side, causing him to shudder a little. He’d press his hand against Martin’s chest, squeezing and massaging in that same methodical, slow rhythm he’d set against his pussy. He moaned as he thought of Jon’s hands on him, firm and precise, and of the way he’d lean further down and ask in a breathy tone, _“Can I kiss you?_ ”

“God, yes,” Martin would reply, his fingers coming up to curl in Jon’s soft black hair. The grey added such a mature charm to him, and he smelled of a cool body soap— cucumber, aloe, hints of lemongrass… Something Martin would pick up on, just faintly, every time he stood a little too close to the smaller man while going about his assistant duties.

Here though, in the lovely fantasy Martin had created for himself, the scent was clear and nearly overwhelming. Jon would kiss him as slowly as he touched him, the mint of his mouthwash a pleasant surprise, and Martin would _ache_ for more. Jon’s tongue would be hot against his own, and he’d bite gently at Martin’s lower lip as he ran his thumb over his nipple.  
Martin would moan at that, arching a little and pressing his pussy more firmly into Jon’s hand. a plea for more without actually asking.

Jon would oblige— it was his _fantasy_ after all— and finally press his fingers into Martin, who was already wet enough to take two. Martin moaned again, squeezing around Jon’s fingers, asking him to push them upwards, inwards, for _anything_ Jon might give him. And despite it being his fantasy, Martin found himself waiting, imagining the way Jon might simply hold them there, his middle and ring finger inside up to the knuckle while he took his time tonguefucking Martin’s mouth, drawing out pleasured sighs from the man under him.

And then he would move them. A slow drag outward with a sharp thrust inward, a pinch to Martin’s nipple and bite to his lower lip would have Martin’s eyes rolling to the back of his head with a sudden cry. And then would come another, and another, as Jon set a steady rhythm with his fingers. His mouth would move from Martin’s, open mouthed kisses peppered along his jawline, underneath his ear, and on the sensitive skin of his neck. All lingering, all with a faint suction, just enough to drive Martin crazy with want.  
“Jon, _please—!_ ” He’d gasp, and Jon’s lips would close above his clavicle, though still on his soft neck, and he’d suck, a purple bruise forming with every passing moment as Jon moved his fingers inside of Martin, no longer thrusting but simply massaging, pushing against his g-spot.

As Martin cried out, Jon would remove his mouth, another kiss and flick of the tongue pressed beneath Martin’s ear. _“Enjoying yourself?”_ He’d ask, and Martin knew he’d be grinning, reveling in the way Martin’s hips jerked up against the palm of his hand. _“I know you are. You’re practically dripping, making such a mess. Aren’t these fresh sheets, Martin? You really should be more careful.”_ Jon could play him like no other, and to think of his chiding taking on a gentle, teasing tone in the bedroom only made Martin wetter.

“It’s— _ahh_ —your fault..” Martin would reply, eyes fluttering open to watch the way Jon would smile against his skin. _“True,”_ Jon would counter, spreading his fingers inside of Martin, making him gasp, his own fingers instead grasping at Jon’s shoulders for an anchor. _“But you know as well as I do you’ve made this mess all on your own.”_ Jon would give Martin’s now swollen and sensitive nipples another pinch before his palm would rest on Martin’s pubic area, his thumb pressing decisively into Martin’s clit as he twisted the fingers inside him.

 _”Jon—!”_ He’d gasp, stuttering moans slipping past his lips as Jon fingerfucked him quickly, but massaged his clit at a slower pace. Martin couldn’t quite tell how long he kept this up, his thighs shaking as his fantasy Jon had pressed a wet kiss to his lips before sitting back and enjoying the show. _“Gorgeous.”_ He’d say, with an absent minded air to the words, and Martin would flush at that, more than he already was. He’d peek up at Jon from under blonde lashes, and let his eyes wander and travel the length of his colleague’s body. He’d lock eyes with Jon and take notice, as the other presses closer once again, of the hard bulge against his inner thigh, groaning at the thought of Jon being just as eager as he was.

He’d squeeze tightly around Jon’s fingers again, soft ‘ _ah_ ’s falling from his lips, before he’d choke down any extra embarrassment threatening to bubble up as he felt Jon’s steady grind against his thigh, and Jon’s fingers slipped out with a wet noise. With his pussy empty and the space between his legs vacant, Jon could slot his hips in with Martin’s just so, the skin of his cock separated from Martin’s aching pussy by just a thin layer of cotton. Jon would groan at the feeling, the heat searing and wetness easily felt through the navy blue briefs, and it’d make his cock jump— something Martin could absolutely feel, causing him to let out a moan of his own.

 _“I could keep you like this, couldn’t I Martin?”_ Jon would tease once again, though the edge in his sultry voice would tell Martin how badly he wanted to fuck him. _”I could— nnf— rock against you—“_ Every word or two being broken by the rhythm of Jon’s hips against Martin’s. _“— For hours, haah, I could have you any way I—_ oh _— choose, for as long as I want. Isn’t that right? Because you’re so—_ god _, Martin— you’re so good for me? So eager to please and reap those rewards.”_  
Martin would nod eagerly, a litany of “yes, _yes_ ,” spilling from his lips, his thighs moving to tighten around Jon’s hips— but would be stopped by Jon’s hands, open palms on his inner thighs as he would rut against Martin’s pussy. _“F-fuck…”_ He’d groan, head dropping as his hips stuttered a bit, clearly trying to relax before he’d push himself too far and cum.

But of course, he wouldn’t— not until the end of Martin’s fantasy. The bed was messy underneath Martin, his pussy clenching around nothing as he fumbled next to him for his dildo, breaking the illusion for just a moment. He closed his eyes as he lubed the thing up though, bringing it back in full force.  
In his fantasy, Jon would push down the wet briefs, exposing his aching and dripping cock, and Martin would reach out, unable to help himself. He’d grasp Jon’s cock firmly, the other man letting out a sharp _“ah—!”_ as he swiped his thumb over a bit of the head, collecting precum to lube Jon’s shaft.

 _”Mar—tin.. Ahh..”_ He’d moan, rocking his hips forward lightly each time Martin would stroke downwards, pulling his foreskin back to expose his weeping head.  
“I want you inside me, Jon,” Martin would pant, giving a firm squeeze to the base of Jon’s cock, causing Jon’s fingers to dig into the inside of Martin’s soft thighs where they were still resting. “I want you to fuck me and fill me up, please, I need it I— I need _you_.” Another squeeze, and a desperate whisper escaped Jon’s lips as he’d watch Martin’s hand stroke his dick.

Martin would hold him firmly still, guiding the head to his cunt, parting the lips and very snugly settling the head right at the entrance, watching Jon struggle to keep his composure. Jon’s hands would move lightly running up and down the sides of Martin’s body as he relaxed himself before settling on his hips, just as soft as the rest of his body but with a perfect dip for Jon’s palms to fit in. _”You’re sure this is okay?”_ He’d ask, hazy eyes meeting Martin’s own. _“I could get us a condom, I—“_

But Martin would cut him off wordlessly, shaking his head and shifting his hips upwards so the whole head slipped inside him. They would both moan, relief and ecstasy washing over them, and Martin would bite his lip and look upwards at Jon. “I need you, Jon. I need you to fuck me, cum in me, tell me I’m yours.” Martin would pant, shifting again and pulling Jon closer with strong thighs until he was buried completely in the other man, his low, breathy moans sounding like music to Martin’s ears. As was his usual fashion, Jon’s hips moved relatively slowly— and if it weren’t Martin actually just teasing himself with his own dildo, he’d be inclined to say Jon was testing the waters, making sure not to hurt him. And maybe he was, if that’s what Martin’s mind wanted to fill in the gap with.

But Martin’s aching body took advantage of him easily, and the Jon in his imagination simply followed suit, fucking him with more confidence and vigor now. He’d pull Martin’s hips downwards to meet his own forward thrusts, and Martin would cry out, pleas for more, to go faster, punctuated by “Jon, _oh, Jon—!!_ ” like he couldn’t get enough of the simple sound of Jon’s name.

 _“Oh, fuck, Marti—in,”_ Jon would groan, leaning forwards as he fucked into Martin eagerly, and just as eagerly Martin knew he had to kiss him again. Though breathless, he would kiss him as deep as he could, needing Jon’s tongue in his throat as deep as his cock inside him. Their foreheads would rest against each other in between sloppy kisses, the wet slide of Jon’s cock in and out of Martin’s dripping pussy only making his head swim with arousal— and he’d be sure that Jon felt the same way, if the haziness in his gaze was anything to go on.

Martin’s body would jerk to meet Jon’s thrusts, becoming more erratic and sloppy the more the head of Jon’s dick dragged across his g-spot, and every movement would bring tears to the corners of his eyes and a sharp gasp to his lips. He’d imagine Jon not faring much better, parts of his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, his heart hammering in his chest as he cried out— _“A-ah! Hah! Fuck, M-Martin—!”_ —with every snap of his hips. “Oh my _go-o-d_ ,” Martin moaned, thinking of just how badly he wanted, needed Jon to cum inside of him.

“Please, please, _please, oh, Jon—!_ ” He’d beg, and feel Jon’s grip on his hips tighten, he’d look up at the man he.. _loved_ , because yes, at this point he loved him, and he would see Jon’s gaze mirror his own— eyes fighting to stay open against the onslaught of feeling because he needed to see Martin’s expression, how he felt when Jon would finally cum inside of him.

It didn’t take more than a few more jerky, hard thrusts, precisely angled to rub up against Martin deliciously before Jon would lean forward just a bit more, his eyes still locked with Martin’s as he’d bury himself as far as he could into Martin’s hot, wet, welcoming body and was cumming harder than ever before, Martin might imagine. He kept Jon like that in his mind, the smaller man’s hips pressed desperately into his own as he reached down with one hand and massaged his clit, fingers rubbing quickly without the precision he’d given Jon’s fingers— but it didn’t matter, because within a minute he was cumming, crying out for Jon, legs violently shaking as he clenched around his dildo.

And after his come down, like that, he came slowly back to reality. Jon’s cool smelling soap and searing body faded and Martin felt… a little alone, through the post-orgasmic haze. He wiped his hand against the sheets and ran it through his hair, catching his breath, wiping away the tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.

“... God.” He sighed, “How can I look him in the eyes tomorrow morning?”


End file.
